Unprecedented
by GreenHat24
Summary: After deciding that Ike had fallen into the wrong crowd and taking it upon himself to see if these kids were really as bad as he had assumed, Kyle found himself infatuated with a friend of a friend who hadn't quite caught his eye until a trip to a shambolic garage changed everything. Little did he know he had a type, and that his younger brother's wasn't all that different.
1. I Need You to Do Me a Favor

Kyle didn't exactly consider himself to be a fan of the group of kids that his younger brother associated himself with. He felt that the intelligent, well-rounded Canadian had ended up getting stuck in a bad crowd, although Kyle himself couldn't really say much. After all, he was one fourth of the reason why his very own friend group was considered to be a bit on the reckless side.

Unlike the infamous group of twelfth graders consisting of the aforementioned redhead and his three delinquent friends, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman, Ike's friendship circle included only two other members alongside himself. After a lengthy period of time spent by Kyle attempting to learn their names, he eventually knew them to be Filmore and Firkle.

He wasn't fond of Filmore in the slightest, although the reason being was rather foggy to him. Maybe it was something to do with the way he presented himself. Jet black hair was never seen without an unruly amount of hair gel raked through the thick strands, causing them to stick up almost vertically and reminded Kyle of a lawn that badly needed to be mowed. Seeing him without his signature South Park Cows football jacket was also unheard of, giving him that douchey jock vibe. Stan was the only person he could tolerate that had the tendency to fit that stereotype, and he had to admit that his best friend wasn't even nearly that obnoxious.

On the other hand, Firkle was the kid that Kyle wasn't too sure of. He was relatively quiet, which Kyle greatly appreciated, but there was something about this quietness that put the redhead on edge. To put it simply, the twelve-year-old freaked him the fuck out. Firkle hadn't changed much in his short life and still remained a key aspect to the notorious goth kids' clique, regardless of his newfound friendship with his two classmates upon reaching middle school. However, this wasn't what fazed the older male. Kyle was used to seeing people of that variety on a daily basis. Henrietta and Pete, friends of the young noiret, were in quite a few of his classes, after all. If he had to guess the way in which Firkle sent shivers down his spine, he'd probably blame it on the looks he received whenever it was Ike's turn to have his friends over.

Whenever Kyle so much as strolled past them while they were sprawled out across the living room sofa, intent on grabbing a snack or a beverage from the kitchen adjacent to said living room, he felt watched. He seldom spared a glance their way, but whenever he did he was always met with a blank face. Firkle's eyes were a piercing shade of dark brown, which could often be mistaken as black when compared to the charcoal liner smudged around the perimeters of each eye. They bore into his profile, causing the redhead to become rather uneasy. An almost completely horizontal mouth accompanied these penetrative orbs, making the overall expression that bit more robotic. To top it all off, Firkle's skin tone was far from ordinary. If not for his dark attire and ebony mane, it was presumed that he may have ran the risk of becoming lost in the ashen snow that coated the small town. This gave his face a sickly, deathlike appearance. Kyle had never been urged to leave a room quicker.

He couldn't fathom what his sibling saw in these two, to be perfectly honest. Ike was a bright, bubbly personality with superb grades and a knack for both hockey and football. He had a lot going for him and Kyle couldn't help but feel like his pals were holding him back. Although it was rare, the boy didn't stray from getting into quite a bit of trouble at school with those two at his side, but again, there wasn't much that Kyle could scold him for without sounding ridiculously hypocritical. The elder refused to believe that he was the cause for his very own weekly detentions, however, repeatedly explaining to his disgruntled parents that he was continuously provoked by none other than Eric Cartman, to which they'd respond with a knowing glance between themselves.

Long story short, Kyle longed for the day that his brother would come to his senses and ditch those irresponsible kids. He figured he could find some new friends at the click of his fingers. Maybe even a girlfriend, if he played his cards right. That'd cause his friendship with Filmore and Firkle to weaken for sure. That Flora girl seemed sweet, he figured. Perhaps being his little bro's wingman wouldn't have been that bad of an idea.

On second thought, yeah, it was.

Eventually, the elder Broflovski son concluded that he just had to leave Ike to his own devices. He supposed he didn't really know the two all that well and, who knows, they may have been some pretty cool guys. And about the whole relationship situation, Kyle knew not to be the one to push that on Ike. After all, he knew from experience that having girls thrown at you left and right can end in some heartbreak, especially once he figured out that he wasn't all that into women at all. Although he had to admit, the look on Bebe's face when the secret was out was priceless. Over half a decade of lusting after someone just to find out that they swing for the same team as you must have been a real punch in the face. Two years after coming out and he still caught her looking his way with those azure, lovey-dovey irises.

On this particular Wednesday, Kyle was pacing back and forth across his abnormally tidy bedroom with an expression of pure panic on his features. Ike was currently out God knows where doing God knows what, although Kyle had more than an inkling as to who in particular he was with. His brother wasn't answering his calls, his texts, nothing. "Fucking ridiculous," he muttered to himself, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking once again for any form of contact from the younger. As if by fate, a ding suddenly sounded and Kyle jumped, opening the message immediately.

 **Ike:** 19:57.

 _Dude, calm your tits. I'll be home in a few, just gotta say bye to everyone and then I'll hit the road. Try not to have too many panic attacks before I get home. Xxx ;)_

Kyle sighed with relief. So he wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere; that was a positive in his books. But he couldn't help but wonder... "Everyone?" he inquired aloud. As far as he was concerned, "everyone" wouldn't exactly be the term used to refer to two people. So who the fuck else was he hanging out with? Another notification appeared on his screen, telling him that Stan was calling. He accepted the call, placing the device against his ear and uttering a quiet, "Yeah?"

" _Dude, Ky, you need to come to Stark's right now!"_ Stan's cheery voice called out from the phone.

Kyle sighed. "Any particular reason?"

" _Dude, it's- Oh God, it's so fucking funny,"_ he laughed uncontrollably. _"Cartman sent Butters out in Kenny's uncle's shitty little wooden boat and he's fucking stuck! He's just floating in the middle of the damn lake with no oars or anything! Just come down, dude, we'll- Wait, Ken wants to talk, one sec."_

Kyle groaned as he heard vague muttering on the other end of the line as Stan's phone was no doubt being snatched off him. _"Kyley, c'mon,"_ the blond chuckled. _"You need to see this before the wind ends up pushing him back. He's bawling his fucking eyes out and I think Cartman just pissed himself. Yup, yeah, he did."_

The redhead frowned and looked out the window at the pouring rain and howling wind. No matter what, he knew he would be forced to leave the warm, comfortable confines of his room eventually, whether it was in order to help rescue Butters from his asshole friends or to meet Ike halfway in order to make sure he got home safe and sound. "I'm on my way," he sighed into the phone, shoving on his boots, coat, and ushanka before stepping out of his bedroom. "Just don't do anything stupid while I'm not there."

" _Yes, sir!"_

* * *

The walk to Stark's Pond was long and drab. Kyle's frigid hands were sans gloves for the simple reason that he had forgotten to grab them on the way out. Because of this, his skeletal arms were crossed tightly across his chest, hands shoved in his underarms for warmth. He huffed in discomfort as the lashing rain poured down on his trembling form. "Just what I fucking needed," he hissed, cringing noticeably as a particularly chilling raindrop splashed onto the nape of his neck.

Kyle kept his eyes peeled, scanning the street for any sign of his younger brother. This would have been so much easier if he knew where the fuck he was. He sighed, raking a hand underneath his sopping hat and absentmindedly scratching at his scalp. He'd text him again when he got to Stark's.

It wasn't long until he arrived. Upon noticing him, Stan's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Dude, over here!" he called out to him, waving the sluggish redhead over.

"I know, I know, I see you," Kyle grumbled in response. He shoved his numb hands unceremoniously into his coat pockets as he trudged towards them, noting Kenny perk up at the sight of him.

"Hey, sugar," the blond grinned, earning an eye roll and a slug on the shoulder from Kyle. Kenny chuckled in response, lightly rubbing the area that his friend had hit. "Nice to see you too."

"Yeah, yeah," Kyle groaned and looked out on the lake. "Just show me where he is and let me figure something out."

Stan and Kenny, already knowing who he was referring to, glanced nervously at one another. "About that," Stan began, avoiding eye contact. "We may have kind of accidentally lost him…"

There was a moment of silence. "Excuse me?"

"What Stanny here _meant_ to say is that we just don't know the exact location of him right now," Kenny butted in.

"So you lost him," Kyle clarified monotonously. He earned a sheepish nod from both teens and huffed in annoyance. Typical.

Suddenly, Cartman burst through the trees and jogged over to them, panting lightly. Kyle felt his eyes drift downward and land on the large male's crotch, cringing as he noticed the wet patch staining his grey sweatpants. Fucking gross.

"Find 'im?" Kenny inquired.

"Yeah, boat washed up down by the bench," he muttered upon catching his breath, glancing over at Kyle with a scowl. "Enjoying the view, fag?"

Kyle's eyes snapped up and he mirrored his expression. "Not particularly, no," he replied dryly. "Butters! C'mon!"

Rustling was heard in the distance and the poor blond soon emerged from the forestry, soaking wet from head to toe with twigs stuck in his hair and mud smeared across his face. Kyle's face softened with pity. His friends could be real dickheads at times. "H-Heyya, Kyle!" Butters beamed as if nothing was wrong. However, Kyle couldn't help but notice his reddened sclerae.

"You okay, dude?" Kyle winced.

"I'm swell!" the trembling blond replied happily. "M-Myself and the fellers here were just havin' a bit of fun."

Kyle nodded, his expression remaining solemn. He sighed and tore off his jacket, wrapping it around Butters' shoulders. Kyle's arm soon found its way around his back and he held onto Butters' side as he pulled him in closer. The redhead could feel the slight sting in his arms from the harsh droplets of rain pounding down onto his now bare skin, and the chill of the wind hitting against him wasn't exactly a treat either. Regardless, he led the younger teen away from his friends without a single complaint. They followed, of course, and Stan couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret.

"Want my coat, Ky?" the noiret inquired from a few feet behind.

"I'm good," Kyle replied simply, a hint of annoyance in his shaky voice. His teeth chattered and he huffed, knowing that there was a snowball's chance in Hell he'd manage to get through this without obtaining a flu. Just thinking about it made his throat feel scratchy.

Suddenly, yet another notification went off on his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket with his free hand and unlocked it with minor difficulty, sighing with relief as he read the short message.

 **Ike:** 20:32

 _I'm home. Where are you?_

Kyle didn't bother responding, knowing he'd be back within the next ten minutes. He looked up at Butters and frowned. "You sure you're okay?" he whispered so that the others wouldn't hear.

Butters glanced over at him and gave him a small smile before returning his solemn gaze to the ground. "I guess," he whispered back, uncharacteristically gloomy.

Kyle sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night. Yeah, his friends really _were_ assholes.

* * *

After dropping Butters back to his house and ignoring the guys for the rest of the journey, Kyle finally arrived home. He threw open the door and shoved his sopping jacket onto the coat rack, not even bothering to put it back on after the blond had returned it. Each individual family member turned to look at him.

"Finally!" Ike groaned. "And you give _me_ shit for disappearing."

"Language, Isaac," his mother scolded before glaring at her eldest son, although a hint of concern could be seen in her piercing eyes. "Where on earth were you?"

"Out," Kyle responded nonchalantly as he took off his muddy shoes and left them somewhat neatly by the doorway. He then took off his moist socks for good measure and strode into the kitchen, testing his basketball skills by tossing them into the wash basket from the doorway. Naturally, the first one went in without a problem. It wasn't until he was about to throw the second sock before he was grabbed by the arm and pulled into the living room, messing up his aim and causing the item to land in the sink instead.

"Where were you?" Sheila repeated sternly, almost making Kyle wince. But he didn't, of course.

"I met up with the guys for a bit," he responded monotonously, staring her down. "Where else would I be?"

After a moment of tension inducing silence, the stout woman released him from her grasp. "At least do me the decency of leaving a note next time, Bubby," she sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"My sincerest apologies," he drawled, walking away from her and towards the staircase. Before he took the first step, however, he glanced back over at his mother and bit his lip, uttering a more genuine, "I'm sorry, it won't happen again," before proceeding to climb up to his bedroom. Unbeknownst to him, Ike followed. Kyle hopped onto his bed after grabbing a novel from his book case and saw him lingering in the doorway in the corner of his eye. "Can I help you?"

Ike shrugged and strolled into the room with his hands in his pockets before taking a seat at his brother's desk. "Perhaps," he hummed, looking anywhere but at him.

Kyle bookmarked his page and set the book down, giving the noiret his utmost attention. "Ike, spit it out," the elder warned.

He sighed and absentmindedly swivelled back and forth in his chair, eventually lifting his baby-blue eyes to his brother's emerald ones. "I need you to do me a favor."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Hopefully you guys are liking it so far. I really want to try to make this story worth reading. Updates won't be regular, surprise surprise, but I'll try to write as much as humanly possible. Not even going to give a reason for late updates because it's excuse after excuse after excuse and it's getting old. Also, something about Kyle being the mom friend makes me warm and fuzzy inside. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Giving In

**A/N**

 **Dialogue is difficult for me and this chapter's full of it. Enjoy!**

* * *

"There's not a hope in Hell I'm bringing you to one of those places."

"Kyle, c'mon," Ike groaned. "All of my friends are going. Can you just be cool for once? _Please_?"

Kyle glared at him through his rusty bangs. "How are your friends going if you need someone over sixteen to gain entry?"

"Because _you'd_ be that person!"

"Well then I guess you don't have to worry about being left out of the loop since none of your friends can go either," Kyle huffed and picked his book back up. "I'm not doing it for you and I'm sure as shit not doing it for them."

"Firkle's going," Ike grumbled.

The redhead glanced up at him. "How's he able to go without a-"

"He's part of the band," he interrupted before sighing and taking his tone down a notch. "That's why I wanna go, Ky. He always comes to my games so I figured it'd be a nice thing to do. I don't understand why you're so against the whole thing…"

"I'm against it because it's fucking dangerous, Ike," Kyle countered. "People drink and smoke and fight and I just don't want you to be there, okay?"

"Number one, you drink and smoke and fight _all_ the time, so don't give me that bullshit," Ike claimed with a role of his eyes. "Number two, you'd be there with me so I'd be perfectly fine. You can even baby me and be a total embarrassment, I don't give a damn! I just want to see my friend playing the drums in his shitty little garage band. Just this once."

Kyle bit his lip and looked down at his lap in thought. Stubborn as he was, he knew that he should at least give his younger brother a chance. Unfortunately, he wasn't a toddler anymore. Kyle wasn't in any place to be bossing him around all the time. He needed to be able to make his own mistakes, but the elder would've preferred for him to start off a little bit safer than a gothic band slam or whatever he referred to it as. In the end, the decision was completely up to him. But then again, Ike could just find someone else to take them, and Kyle was _not_ going to let that happen. "I'll think about it," he eventually muttered.

Ike's face lit up as he sprung up from his seat and pounced on his brother, enveloping him in a quick hug. "Thanks, love ya!" he sang before prancing out of the room without giving him a chance at changing his mind.

Kyle placed his novel on his nightstand and allowed himself to fall back onto his bed with a thump. What was he getting himself into?

* * *

"I think you should just let him go," Stan mumbled as he poured ketchup beside his fries. "Goths aren't as freaky as people make them out to be. They're just a bunch of folks with about as much personality as a bowl of soup. Harmless, trust me."

Kyle sighed through his mouth, his nose too congested to even attempt to breathe through it. Yup, he _knew_ his immune system would fuck him over after his little adventure the previous night. "I dunno," he sighed, coughing weakly into his arm. Stan winced with guilt. "I just don't want him growing up too quick, you know?"

"I get'cha, Kyley-Bear," Kenny smiled and rested his chin on his palm. "Kar's already wearin' makeup and all that bull. It's fuckin' heartbreaking."

"I'll tell you what's heartbreaking," Cartman grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. "I ordered a milkshake seven fucking minutes ago and it's nowhere to be seen. Fucking typical Denny's. Why couldn't we have just gone to McDonald's, you dumb assholes?"

"Maybe they thought you could do without, fatass," Kyle remarked.

"Well if that were the case then they'd be bringing three down for you, you dumb Jew," the brunet snapped back at him. "Their job is to give people what they fucking paid for, not make up goddamn diet plans for them. Fuck you."

Kyle rolled his eyes and shook his head, absentmindedly swirling the nearly melted ice cubes around in his glass of water with the unused straw. "Patience is a virtue," he eventually stated.

Cartman promptly threw a salt packet at his cheekbone, causing Kyle's fiery gaze to snap up to his face, which then led to him proceeding to chuck an open sachet of ketchup at his jacket, leaving a trail of sauce along the flap of his pocket. "What the fuck?!" Cartman yelled and picked up his glass of Sprite, intending on using it as his next weapon.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Kenny said gently and took the beverage away from the fuming teen. "We're not gettin' kicked out again, thank you very much."

Stan sighed and looked over at Kyle, who was tearing off a slice of pizza a bit too aggressively and placing it on his plate. "Dude, Ike's not getting any younger. He'll officially be a teen in December."

"Don't remind me," Kyle grunted.

"Dude, just take him to this one gig," the noiret reasoned, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He'll resent you if you don't, especially after you gave him a shred of hope. Don't be a dickstain."

Kyle frowned down at the table top before glancing up at Stan like a kicked puppy. "Will you come?"

"Can't, taking Wends out for the night."

"I didn't even tell you the night it's on yet," Kyle said monotonously with furrowed brows.

"I still get the texts, Ky," Stan chuckled, raking a hand through his jet-black hair. "I know all the deets about this sorta shit."

"Well it's a good thing ya don't go anymore 'cause they'd sacrifice ya to their demon lord if they heard the word 'deets' comin' outta your mouth."

"Fuck off, Ken," Stan groaned.

"Ken, are _you_ free Wednesday night?" Kyle asked hopefully.

"No can do, babe," the blond sighed. "It's just really not my thing."

"It's not my thing either!"

"Right, but it's _your_ brother," Kenny grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Not my responsibility."

Kyle glared at him and huffed. "Well, I'm all outta fucking friends to ask."

"You sure are," Cartman confirmed.

Kyle switched his glare from Kenny to Cartman. "As if I was ever even considering asking you," he sneered, crossing his arms.

Cartman shrugged and continued to devour his meal. "Whatever, have fun on your playdate, Jew." With that, the brunet's milkshake finally arrived, keeping him occupied for the next three and a half minutes of their outing.

"So what are you thinking?" Stan asked, turning to look at Kyle. "Gonna take 'im?"

Kyle sighed and nodded, clearing his scratchy throat. "Yeah, I don't really have much of a choice…"

"It's only a couple hours long, you'll be alright. And he said it'll just be a one-time thing, right?"

"Right," he confirmed.

Stan smiled. "Then you have nothing to worry about. Ike's a good kid. If he gave you his word then he'll stick by it. He's only going to watch Firkle play."

"But what if he really enjoys himself and wants to go again?" Kyle whined.

"He won't, trust me," Stan chuckled, shaking his head. "It isn't exactly a ball of rainbows and sunshine there. Just a bunch of cynical assholes dressed in black complaining about how much they hate everything in between drags."

"Are the tunes any good?" Kenny intervened.

"Hit and miss," Stan shrugged. "Depends on what you're into. The guys Ike's lookin' to see are good though. Like, real good."

"They are?" Kyle inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Yup. Pete, Michael, Henrietta, and Firkle. They may be asshats but they sure as fuck know how to play, I'll give 'em that."

Kyle sighed. "Looking forward to it…"

* * *

"Ma, I'm taking Ike bowling with his friends Wednesday evening," Kyle muttered, glancing over at his brother who was giving him a sly smirk.

"That's kind of you, Bubbie," she smiled, kissing the top of his head as she placed his bowl of matzah ball soup on the table. She then looked over at Ike, who was already digging into his dinner. "Did you thank your brother, Isaac?"

"Yeah," Ike grinned up at Kyle, earning a roll of the eyes.

"What's the occasion?" Gerald inquired as his wife sat down beside him.

"No occasion," Kyle responded monotonously. "I'm just a nice guy."

"The nicest," Ike agreed with a wink. Kyle rolled his eyes yet again.

His parents looked at each other and sighed. "Well, I think that you two spending time together is great," Gerald commented, taking a sip from his glass of water. "Maybe over the weekend you could do something with just the two of you, hmm? You know, just to get out of the house for a few hours."

"Glad to know our presence here is appreciated and valued."

"I appreciate you, Kyle," Ike grinned at him.

"Shut up," the redhead groaned, pinching his arm. He then dug into his jean pocket at the feeling of his phone vibrating against his thigh. "May I be excused?" Kyle asked Sheila, earning a sigh and a brisk nod. He thanked her and stood up, pushing in his chair and taking his half-empty bowl to the sink. "Hello?" he said upon answering the call.

" _Is this Kyle?"_ an unidentifiable, deep voice asked.

"Yeah, who's this?" Kyle inquired, hopping onto the counter top.

" _Michael. Listen, Firkle told me you're taking Ike and Filmore to the slam next week. That means you'll be hanging out with us when we're not playing. The last thing we want is to be seen with a goddamn poser so don't show up looking like a fucking Bieber wannabe."_

"And how might one go about doing that?" Kyle frowned.

He heard the other boy scoff. _"First of all, don't talk like that. You sound like a fucking pleb. Secondly, wear black. Only black. Just don't draw attention to yourself, for the love of fuck. Keep your mouth shut, have a cigarette in your hand at all times, and when you're not taking a drag, drink coffee. Oh, and leave the fucking hat at home where it belongs."_ With that, the oldest goth hung up.

"Dick," Kyle muttered to himself. He shoved his phone unceremoniously into his pocket and began to make his way back to the dinner table, but he came to an abrupt stop before taking a couple of steps backwards to where he had passed a mirror. He looked into it and frowned, tugging the flaps on his hat. If that kid thought he was showing up without it, he was highly mistaken.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **I was originally going to post a oneshot for Bubbalah's birthday but I didn't finish it on time surprisingly enough and I was almost finished this chapter so I figured I'd update this instead. I'll post the oneshot sometime next week if I have time. Thanks for reading!**


End file.
